Around her waist, the Nomad’s belt cinched tight once more.

  The comfortable weight rested upon her hips as she stood within the wyrmling’s death chamber. By now, the party had collected up and butchered a reasonable quantity of scales and bones from the decaying beast. The spoils dwelt now in the pouches that sat snuggly on Autumn’s waistline. Not all of it, not by far, but enough to sell for good coin later or to be used by the group’s witch-slash-necromancer as she willed.

  Besides butchering, the group had accomplished another task thanks to Autumn. Just before she came back around the long way, she stopped before the door leading to the north chamber. From here, she and her gear would’ve aged twice if she passed through it. Deciding to find out for sure, she tossed a piece of leather through.

  It turned instantly to dust upon passing through the threshold.

  Needless to say, she and Eme decided not to pass through themselves now or any time soon.

  As she stood back with the others, a deep yawn escaped Autumn, spawned from the growing well of exhaustion within her plaguing her mind. Heavy were her thoughts, her eyes, her limbs. Reaching up with a leaden hand, she covered her yawning mouth as she shook.

  Beside and behind her, the rest of her party had gathered. They stowed their nervousness behind blades and armor. By one, they checked themselves over as they prepared themselves to pass through the door of youthfulness. To become themselves but other.

  “You doing okay?”

  Nethlia’s concerned voice startled Autumn from her weariness. Turning, she looked up at the tall demoness as she stopped to stand resolute beside her like a statue.

  “Yeah,” Autumn mumbled through her yawn before gaining her breath. “Just a little tired from all this walking and fighting. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure,” the demoness hummed. She glanced towards the door that’d take them back to the first room and the undead beyond the next. “If you want, we can take a break for a moment or two. The dead aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Nah, I’ll be alright. But, thanks for the thought. I appreciate it. The sooner we get through this godforsaken ruin, the better.”

  Nethlia chuckled. “Technically, it’s not completely godsforsaken, you know? Suthir still has an eye on it, if only minorly.”

  With a huff, Autumn rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

  “Sure, sure. I get you. Well, if you’re absolutely sure you don’t need a break, then you can lead us through.”

  Autumn took a deep breath as Nethlia gestured her forward. Her feet lead her through the doorway once more and into a younger her.

  Chronomagical forces washed over her frame just as quickly as it had last time, regressing her bodily back to a time she’d much rather forget. Thankfully, as she was prepared for it this time, she didn’t trip over her own two feet as her stride suddenly shortened beneath her. Nor did her now baggy clothing impede her.

  With heavy boots, she strode away from the door deeper into the chamber to give the others room to enter behind her.

  Eme was the next one through right on Autumn’s heels. Like last time, she became a tiny, adorable teenage kitten, complete with twitchy little ears and glistening eyes too large for her head. She scurried over to Autumn, latching onto the witch’s side to watch the others transform with her.

  After the catgirl came the demoness Nethlia.

  As she strode into the room, she stumbled slightly as her towering, seven-foot height vanished. Catching herself on the nearby wall, Nethlia looked down at herself with disturbed fascination as her strong, muscular physique likewise dwindled back to her adolescent strength. Well-earned muscles turned lean.

  The demoness’ barbarian-like outfit of fur, bone, and leather swallowed her. Grabbing at them swiftly, she halted their abandonment of her body with grace. As she glanced towards Autumn, she ran a hand shyly through her messy locks of hair, frowning as she felt at the shortened lengths her horns had become. Or perhaps, returned to, would be more accurate.

  Funnily enough, they were still bigger than Liddie’s.

  Annoyingly, Autumn noticed that Nethlia still towered over her by a head or so even as young teens. So too did her lithe muscles outstrip the witch’s own.

  “Freaky,” Nethlia breathed out as she regained her balance. While higher pitch than her usual timbre, the demoness still possessed a smooth, roguish voice that shivered the spine.

  Not that Autumn would admit it.

  After adjusting her outfit enough so that it wouldn’t fall, Nethlia made her way over to the pair of wallflowers that were Autumn and Eme.

  “Hey,” she said in that damn easy voice of hers.

  Butterflies frolicked unkindly in Autumn’s stomach as she heard it. Heat ignited across her face as she squeaked out a hello in kind. Riot drums beat within her chest at the sight of the demoness’ smile.

  She’d not felt this way since her first days in highschool.

  Autumn had not missed the feeling in the slightest.

  Thankfully, the arrival of the others drew attention away from her tongue-tied state and the trio turned to take in their new/old appearances.

  Nelva’s mature features faded as the wave of magic washed over her, replacing it instead with a teenage tomboyishness Autumn hadn’t expected. Proud eyes glittered above a gap-toothed smile and cheeks darkened by sun. Anticipating the regression of her form, the knight had removed most of her armor. Still, she practically swam in her padded gambeson, bone chestplate, and helm. For her lack of protection she gained a greater fluidity of form.

  With a smile, she tipped back her helm just in time to stumble as Liddie barged through proudly behind her.

  The group stared for a moment at the sight of her.

  Embarrassing as it was to say, the piratical demoness lost little other than some height upon passing through the doorway. Her twelve-year-old self beheld as many curves as her thirty-something-year-old body. Seeing the others’ looks of sympathy, she puffed up her cheeks in a pout.

  “Forget you all!”

  Behind her, Edwyn bellowed. “Gan’ way, twiggy!”

  Liddie yelped as the brawny Manus stormed through the door with Pyre in tow.

  As the oldest, the runemaster had the most to lose. The impressive beard, wound and weaved with runic beads, fled almost entirely from their face as they passed through the door, unveiling a square jaw upon a handsome face. Bright eyes that for once lacked their customary wrinkles still glared at each of them.

  Edwyn swore as they scrambled to catch the beads now bereft of their woven home.

  “Whatcha lot lookin’ at!” They grumbled. Autumn imagined being mostly beardless was more embarrassing for a dwarven-like race than if they’d accidently disrobed themselves.

  Behind the swearing mass came a high-pitched giggle of shocked amusement.

  Glancing around the Manus’ bulk, Autumn held back a squeal as she caught sight of Pyre. Being the youngest, she’d regressed the most visibly into her early childhood. Baggy clothes clad a flaming-haired child of eight or nine. Nervously, the girl clutched at her very oversized satchel full of potions as she struggled to keep it out of the dust.

  “Come here,” Autumn smiled at the little Pyre, holding out a hand for her to take.

  Blushing, the littlest alchemist did so.

  “Everyone ok?” Nethlia asked. “No issues?” Getting only positive responses back, she gestured to the door to the west. “Alright, let’s go and deal with these undead, shall we? Nelva, I want you and Autumn to go through first. Keep the undead off us as long as you two can. We’ll need some time to adjust to the changes.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Nelva snapped out a salute at the orders. “Got it, captain!”

  Nethlia nodded back, her posture filled with a nervous confidence like that of a village hero taking up arms against marauding bandits for the first time. To Autumn’s eye, she lacked the grim calculus of experience that usually hung around her like a shawl.

  Whether or not that was a good thing was yet to be seen.

  “Everyone else, follow my lead. Try to take down the undead with force of arms and save as much magic and items as we can — we’ve no idea how long this tomb will go on for.”

  Another chorus of affirmations met her. Even the childlike Pyre let out a cute squeak as she clutched at Autumn’s hand. Reluctantly, Autumn passed her off to Edwyn to take care of as they made their way over to the door and undead beyond.

  Peering within, not much had changed since Autumn had last checked aside from the undead wandered a bit more lively than before.

  “Go!” Nethlia ordered.

  Nelva was off like a shot. Pushing her way into the room, she held her mirror shield high, keeping it between her and the undead in anticipation of a blow or magical trap. Even as the wash of magic crashed over her, she barely stumbled.

  Autumn herself stuck close behind the knight, matching her step for step.

  Horrid wails greeted their entrance, torn from rotten throats to fill the air with a grim dirge like a dying song escaping their lungs. Shrieks of metal on stone joined the dour chorus as the living dead turned on the pair, their weapons of rust grinding against the floor. Pale, rheumy eyes glinted with madness in the lantern light.

  The wight, armed and armored in rust, raised its greatblade effortlessly at the intruders and unleashed a foul war cry that rattled the room.

  Taking up the call, the trio of zombies shambled towards the party with a crooked gait. They staggered out of the dark with spear and sword in putrid, slick hands. Weeping eyes and decayed lips dripped with insanity and death.

  Autumn raised her wand in the face of such horrors and unleashed a torrent of powerful magics. From behind Nelva’s guard streaked out violet jinxes.

  A moment of reprieve, she gained them as the force of the blows sent the undead reeling.

  The wight hissed darkly at her violence. It stumbled little from her blow and lunged back at her with a speed beyond expectations. Its greatsword of rust rent the air with a scream as it sailed towards Autumn’s face.

  A shriek of metal on glass filled the air as Nelva intercepted the blow. The force of it sent the knight to her knees with a surprised grunt.

  Over the shield, wet eyes bore hatefully into Autumn.

  “Begone!” Autumn spoke harshly and sent the creature of death and decay reeling back with a gurgled cry.

  Not one to let such an unbalanced foe go unanswered, Nelva lunged up from her crouch with a viper strike. Iron sank into decayed flesh less than expected and almost stuck fast. A shield bash to the undead’s snarling face saw it freed.

  A bull blast from a white wand knocked the undead back before it could recover. The magic whirled the wight away with a wheezed whine.

  Autumn glanced around the room now that she had a moment to breathe. There she saw the others had swifter luck in their dispatchment of the weaker undead. They fell to white-gold, hammer blows, and dragon blades. Gore slickened the bone-ash carpet beneath booted feet.

  Liddie caught a zombie quick with her cutlass, carving a swift line through its neck. The decayed head rolled off with a push, falling to the floor with a resonant thud. Another strike saw the body fall to lie still forevermore.

  A blade forged from a dragon’s tooth lay another low while an omen hammered the last back into its decrepit grave.

  The scream of rust carving through the air wrenched Autumn’s attention back to her fight. The wight swung its greatsword in a sweeping arc towards her and Nelva once more, snarling all the while.

  Like nails on a chalkboard, the blow screeched across the cracked mirror shield.

  The wight’s strength belied its size. Nelva grunted with a muttered curse as she held her ground under the titanic force. Another sweeping blow sought to catch the edge of the shield and tear it aside, but the knight skill denied it so. Still, the mighty monster drove her back.

  Fortunately, they had a mighty monster of their own.

  Nethlia entered the fray with a furious roar. With a reckless swing, she thundered her hammer of war into the undead’s side. The powerful blow cracked the air and sent the ash swirling. As it cleared, an astonished sight was unveiled. The wight had caught Nethlia’s strike upon the blade of rust — its sawblade edge biting the wooden haft of her polearm.

  From the wight’s jaw, a wheezed laugh escaped like a dire hymn fleeing a pipe organ from some long deserted and desecrated church.

  The wight twisted its blade around Nethlia’s weapon, seeking to gouge out her eye with the rusted point.

  Nethlia pushed the undead off, freeing herself from the bite. With another roar, she swung back at the creature, but it dodge out of the hammer’s whistling path with far more grace than its form should allow.

  Again and again, the pair traded thunderous blows.

  From the side, Autumn watched on nervously as she and the others circled the fight like hounds after a fox. In taut hands, blades bayed for blood.

  A grimace stole over her features as a line of red appeared on the demoness’ cheek. Nethlia hardly noticed.

  It was at times like this that Autumn regretted not learning how to disrupt or even destroy undead from her Necromancy spellbook instead of studying up on anatomy and biomancy. To be fair to herself, she hardly expected to run into many on their way to defeat the hag and her living army of goblins and crow-like beasts.

  Perhaps she ought to expect the unexpected, as the saying goes.

  For a time, Nethlia fought with a roaring fury like the burning sun. Her hammer blows sounded like thunder in the small chamber as she clashed with the undead’s blade of rust. The dust and bones shook every time their symphony of violence met.

  Unending, was the wight's stamina. Yet, no matter how much it struggled, how much it fought and frayed, it could not fell the berserker with all her rage. Could harm her more than a scratch.

  Could not kill her.

  Fate, it seemed, had other plans for the demoness. Ones that didn’t include such a foul undead such as this.

  In the end, it took but a single distraction, a single moment of inattention on the undead’s behalf, to draw the battle to a curtain close.

  The wight snapped its head towards Liddie with fury and blade in hand as the conflict drew closer to the pirate. And while she could easily step aside from its strike, the undead could not the one that came as retribution to its carelessness. Iron slammed into the side of its skull with a force grand. Bones powdered. Meat, rotten and sloughed, tore with a sickening squelch. Onwards the blow continued, tearing its way through the undead’s decayed brains, pulping what was left in a near instant.

  Autumn turned away with her face green as the ruined body thudded heavily onto the dusty ground.

  A heavy boot made sure it rose never again.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Eme whimpered as she too turned away.

  Off to the side, Liddie spat. “Tough fucker,” she growled as she prodded it with her foot.

  “It was,” Nethlia said, nodding absentmindedly as she wiped down the head of her pole-hammer with a spare rag. “Anyone hurt?”

  “Just you,” Liddie gestured to the cut on the berserker’s cheek. “You ought to get that looked at. That blade was more rust than metal.”

  Nethlia grunted. “Sure — I’ll get Pyre to give me something. While I’m doing that, I want the rest of you to look over the bodies for loot. See if you can’t find another one of those keys around here somewhere while you’re at it.”

  Autumn stifled a yawn as the adrenaline faded from her system. She was getting quite sick and tired of all the fighting. Unfortunately, she didn’t see an end to it anytime soon.

  As the others picked over the loot, meager as it was, Autumn made her way over to the only other door out of the chamber.

  It lay broken — sundered into naught but rubble by the ancient earthquake that’d shorn the trial of might in half. She couldn’t even tell which of the elves, old or young, had once decorated the stone door.

  Turning away in frustration, she wandered around the battle-scarred chamber to aid the others in their scavenging.

  After a short while, a small haul was tucked away into her belt’s pouches. A wealth of 50g in loose coins of gold and silver tumbled into their growing horde. Of the rusted weapons, they left them where they lay as the metal was far too tarnished to be of any value, even to the metal starved Echea Empire.

  Fortunately, while digging about in the dust and bones, they found another gemstone key, this taking the form of a ring. As she held it in her hands, Autumn matched it with the recess that lay within the western door of the wyrmling’s room.

  Autumn sighed. She was getting as sick and tired of all the running around and backtracking in this maze as she was of the fighting.

  With the key in hand and nowhere else to look in the small chamber, the party retraced their steps back out of the western room and back towards the middle chamber, briefly becoming a group of adolescent adventurers as they passed through the first room. The experience was not one she relished enjoying again.

  Stood now before the locked door, Autumn gazed mournfully over the youthful depictions upon it. Reaching out, she placed the ring within the recess that matched it.

  A dull thud resounded from within the stone as it grudgingly accepted her tribute. The door unlocked, grinding ponderously open. Stone against stone.

  However, just as it was halfway open, the door stalled as it thudded against something beyond.

  Autumn heaved a weary sigh. “What now?” she bemoaned.

  Holding her lantern light to the gap, she peered within the darksome gloom. Her eyes alighted upon stone — rubble crashed and crumbled. The chamber beyond lay in ruin. Only a small tunnel of fallen slabs precariously placed offered any hope forwards. It was barely big enough for her to squeeze through deeper into the darkness.

  “We can find another way,” Nethlia offered. “Perhaps your clay trick might work with another lock?”

  Reluctantly, Autumn shook her head. “No, I doubt it’d work twice. After all, it only worked the first time due to how the doors are arranged. Probably on purpose. This is the way forward.”

  Nethlia eyed the slim gap near the floor, far too small for her to fit, even if the door shrank her. “It doesn’t have to be you. I’m sure one of the others could do it.”

  “You’re right — it doesn’t have to be me, but I want to do it. Besides, I’m not afraid of small spaces,” she lied with a grin. “I'll be in and out in no time. I just need to look for another key or some other way forward, right? How hard can that be?”

  The shadows snickered at her ignorance.

  Autumn sighed. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.”